


and when i was shipwrecked, i thought of you

by mvsp



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvsp/pseuds/mvsp
Summary: When Rollins is shot, the last thing she's thinking about is the chaos surrounding her. And when Carisi finds out, the last thing he's thinking about is the courtroom he's running out of.
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Amanda Rollins
Comments: 26
Kudos: 77





	1. 10:34

**Author's Note:**

> hello :~) first rollisi fic so id love advice! TW: gun violence, mention of sex trafficking/sexual abuse

_10:34._

She knew because she had asked a uni for the time. Keeping track of the time throughout the day was as close as she could get to keeping updated on her daughters’ whereabouts; just before lunch? Jesse and Billie would be at the apartment with Sienna, and Amanda was here.

The sun was beating, but the air wasn’t humid quite yet as April came to a close. It was the first day without rain in a week, and she wished more than anything that she could be strolling through the park with her girls. They would pack sandwiches and juice boxes, find a nice grassy spot to sit… Jesse and Billie could run around for a little while and enjoy the fresh air, and she might have even been able to drag Carisi out of his office for a lunch break. Instead, she was standing outside the apartment of a sex trafficker, vest on and gun drawn. She tried to push the fantasy out of her mind, which made her feel even more guilty. 

Her job was hard, that was no secret. She spent every night with her daughters, made breakfast for them every morning, did her best to pick them up from school and daycare every chance she got… no matter what she did, though, it never felt like enough.

“Hey, Rollins,” Benson prompted, and Amanda was drawn from her thoughts. “You ready for this?”

Without processing the question, she immediately nodded. That’s just how she was: constantly, consistently, unfailingly okay. She had to be, as a detective and a mother. Someone had to keep the house up, and it was gonna her. “I’m good, captain.”

Benson didn’t seem incredibly convinced, but she relented nonetheless. Since joining the team, she had watched Rollins grow from a detective with good instincts who made poor decisions, to one of the people you want most on your six. She was _proud_ , and she knew she could get the job done.

“NYPD!”

The squad burst through the door, fanning out into different rooms, the stench of sweat and mold overpowering them. The apartment was filthy, with rotting cardboard boxes and tattered blankets littering the floor. The lightbulbs were bare and cracked, but still eked out enough light to reveal the blood spatter on the floor. “I got blood,” Amanda called out, before moving deeper into the apartment, down the hall to her right. 

Two doors on the left side and one on the immediate right; turning into the latter, she entered a bathroom with grime covering every inch of the sink. The toilet seat was up and the window was so dirtied that no light shone through. Yanking back the shower curtain, Amanda’s heart beat steadily. It was a faster rate- it always was during these sorts of things- but still steady. She had been doing this for long enough that it didn’t shake her anymore. “Bathroom’s clear,” she yelled before backing out, leaving the door ajar. 

Suddenly, she heard shuffling and stifled screams. Her ears perked towards the final room at the end of the hallway, and she watched as that last door thundered against the doorframe. There were people, and there was a struggle. She straightened her back and her arms, gun moving through a space before she did, as she approached the room. “NYPD,” she shouted, “come out with your hands up!”

The air around her moved far too quick for her to catch up to what was happening, and she hadn’t thought about the other room. Laser-focused on her target, Amanda didn’t hear the door immediately to her left creak. She didn’t hear the slam of the handle against the wall, and she didn’t hear the heavy breathing of the man who had slammed it. The only thing she heard was the whistling of a bullet, and then the piercing silence that enveloped her eardrums. The sound of commotion in the other room cut off quicker than she could fall, blinding pain unfolding into her shoulder. She couldn’t even hear the second bullet that hit her on the way down, shredding into her bicep. The world around her was silent as she hit the ground, dimly aware of footsteps behind her, vaguely feeling the vibrations through the floor as another body hit the ground.

_“Dominick!” She laughed, gently chiding him, the smile lines around his eyes deepening as he doubled over. He always doubled over when he laughed, she noticed. “You’re spoiling ‘em, you can’t keep-”_

_“Hey, Amanda, they’re my goddaughters,” he replied with a grin, “they and their ma deserve only the best.”_

_Jesse and Billie were sprawled across the picnic blanket, digging into the two cannolis- sprinkled with chocolate chips and shavings, of course- that their Uncle Sonny had brought them. Amanda watched with a smile so wide she thought her face would get stuck that way, and she brought her hands to her cheeks in disbelief._

_“C’mon, detective,” Sonny nudged her playfully with his shoulder, “take a bite. You know you wanna.” He looked at her with an incredible softness in his eyes._

_“Yeah, mommy,” Jesse said excitedly, leaping up from her stomach to her knees, “have some! They’re so good. I wanna be able to make these, Uncle Sonny, could you…”_

_As Jesse continued to ramble, asking her godfather to teach her how to bake, or take her to someone who could, talking about how she has a friend from class who wants to be a chef, and how she wants an Easy Bake oven, and oh, Uncle Sonny, maybe they could learn ot use the Easy Bake oven together, Amanda just smiled. Sonny, deeply attentive, looked as if he was taking notes in his head, his court sticky notes stuck up on the walls of his skull, writing things like “buy Jesse an Easy Bake oven” or “ask Ma for the cannoli recipe”._

“Amanda,” Benson’s muddled voice came from far, far away, far away from the park, back in the apartment, “Amanda, can you hear me?”

Amanda was frozen on the floor, feeling slightly too warm, itching to take off a layer. _“We knew it was gonna be hot, ‘Manda,” Carisi teases, but still takes her flannel from her shoulders, gently pulling the sleeves from her arms._ Her head felt like it was rolling, she had no idea where she was, but she was too warm.

“Rollins.” Benson said firmly. “Stay with me, here,” and Amanda became dimly aware of the pressure being applied to her left side. Her heartbeat felt much slower than it had before, too slow, and it pulsed in the holes that had torn through her mere seconds ago. She could see Benson’s features looking down on her with desperation, but darkness was seeping in from the corners of her vision. She was unable to speak.

_“Mommy, where did you go?” Billie asked, her voice small. Amanda reached out and stroked her cheek, before tousling her hair._

_“I’m right here, silly Billie, what are you talking about?”_

“I need a bus, now,” Benson yelled, “she’s losing consciousness,” and Amanda’s whole body felt like it was floating. The pulsing had stopped, and now she felt light; she was slipping out of the apartment again, feeling the sunshine on her face and the cool shade of the tree on her legs. She almost didn’t know what Benson was so worried about. She thought she heard sirens.

It took every ounce of strength in her to blink, to breathe, unaware of where she was, but certain of one thing. “My girls,” she mumbled, “they…”

“Don’t speak, Rollins,” Benson whispered, as Amanda let her eyelids close. “They’ll be here soon, just stick with me, don’t…”

Against this advice, Amanda felt as if every bit of her consciousness was being pulled, pulled away from the filth of the apartment, towards the warmest day of April. Towards the giggles and shrieks of her daughters, towards the laughter and encouragement of Sonny, towards the soft grass and the bursting energy of the park.


	2. 11:02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for the love guys ahh :~D i wasn't gonna post this until tomorrow but i hit the wrong button and i can't figure out how to make it a draft again TW: gun violence, blood, mentions of sex trafficking, sexual abuse, & child abuse

_11:02_

Dominick couldn’t help but think about the girls as he stood in arraignment. The weather was so warm he had taken his suit coat off, which now hung off the back of his chair. Jesse and Billie hadn’t been to the park in weeks, the weather had been so dismal, and now he was stuck here. He was spending his Saturday with a lowlife scumbag who had worked with the trafficking ring that SVU was investigating.

A lump settled heavy in his throat with this thought; he knew that Benson, Amanda, and Fin were at a raid that very second, looking into the “bigger fish” that the lovely gentleman being araigned had turned in. The anxiety baffled him. When he was a detective, he had participated in dozens of raids just like that one, like they were nothing.

Well, not nothing. There was always some fear present when you were a detective- he knew that. It was different, however, now that he was standing on the sidelines. Something about not being there with them still felt wrong, and he figured it always would. Thinking about his family in danger while he stood protected in the courtroom… 

“...the defendant, Miles Cho, is being charged with sexual misconduct, solicitation, and aiding and abetting. Mr. Cho, how do you plead?”

“My client pleads guilty, Your Honor,” the attorney to Dominick’s left stated. Defense Attorney James Wright was a husky man, half a foot taller than his client, who seemed as rigid as a wooden plank. The kid looked scared out of his mind; the file said he was 24, but he looked closer to 19 standing in a suit just a little too big for him. Despite his juvenile appearance, Dominick felt no pity for him. He had seen the pictures of the girls they had found, filthy, scared, traumatized. Whether or not Miles felt a similar panic, well, the ADA couldn’t bring himself to care.

Judge Coleman spoke again, this time towards the prosecution. “I understand the DA has made a deal with Mr. Cho?”

Dominick nodded, and replied, “yes, Your Honor. In exchange for information about the sex trafficking ring Mr. Cho works for, we’ve agreed-”

Suddenly, the doors to the courtroom burst open, cutting off his sentence and turning the heads of everybody present. A young woman with dark brown hair frantically rushed in, a phone in hand and a stack of files tucked under the other arm. Dominick immediately recognized Isabelle, Hadid’s personal assistant, having seen her standing by his boss’s side countless times before. Isabelle’s eyes darted around the room, but consistently returned to him.

From behind him, he heard the slam of a fist and Judge Coleman ask incredulously, “what is the meaning of this? Running into my courtroom like this, I won’t allow it!”

Dominick would have scoffed if he wasn’t raised to have better manners. Everyone knew that Coleman had a complex about respect; it made sense why he had become a judge. Even still, yelling at a woman in clear distress? That would have never flown in the Carisi household.

Ignoring the judge’s outburst, Dominick furrowed his brow as Hadid’s assistant approached him. He said gruffly, “what is it, Isabelle?”

The poor girl was shaking ever so slightly, and she stuttered, “i-it’s your team. Captain Benson, she called Hadid.”

Dominick’s blood ran cold. Within an instant, it was as if Judge Coleman, Miles Cho, James Wright, all of them had blinked away. _The raid._ Isabelle had stopped speaking, but her mouth was still moving, like she knew what words to say but couldn’t bring herself to say them.

“Isabelle, what happened?” Dominick said, his accent stronger with his growing panic, his tone controlled despite the tidal waves now crashing around his chest. 

Tears sprung to her eyes. “It- it’s Detective Rollins, she, she was _shot,_ ” that last word having been exhaled, as if it had been painful to speak it. It couldn’t have pained her to say as much as it pained Dominick to hear.

He could have sworn his heart stopped beating.

_Rollins._

He blinked.

_Rollins._

And then, he didn’t waste a single second. He didn’t even glance at the judge, or Miles, or the stenographer, or the guards on either side of the room. He pushed through the gate separating the benches, demanding as he walked, “where’s the bus going?”

“B-Bellevue,” Isabelle yelped through tears, apparently startled by the abrupt commotion of Dominick storming towards the court doors. He didn’t turn to see; he pulled out his own phone, already dialing Benson.

“Mr. Carisi!” Coleman bellowed, but Dominick was already out the door, his briefcase left on the table and suit coat still hanging off the chair.

*****

He had never driven so fast in his life. There had been plenty of times that he’d gone over the speed limit for the sake of his people- more accurately, for the sake of Amanda: when Billie was born, when Bucci held her hostage… Now, he could hardly read the speedometer as he hurtled down the New York streets towards Bellevue. 

Benson was on the phone, answering all of Dominick’s questions, even though he had already asked them.

“Where is she now, she still in surgery?”

“Yes, Carisi, she’s still in surgery-”

“And Sienna is on the way with the girls?”

“Yes, she should be here any minute.”

“How much blood did she lose? You said it was- it was her shoulder and her arm, yeah?”

“I don’t know how much blood, Carisi, but they got her in the bus within 10 minutes, you need to-”

“I’m almost there, just- just hold on.”

He desperately missed having sirens on his car. Hanging up on Benson, he resisted his every urge to scream, scream at the cars in front of him, scream at the sky. 

He decided to pray instead.

“Our Father who art in Heaven, hallow be thy Name,” he muttered, tears springing to his eyes as he imagined Amanda lying on the operating table, _stop that, don’t think about that_ , “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done…”

He continued to recite the prayer as he pulled into the hospital parking lot, and as he ran to the doors of Bellevue, and even as he approached the front desk. He barely knew where he was, images of Amanda flashing through his head like the lights in Time Square. The girls’ voices played like a tape recorder in his ears, gently babbling and chatting at the same time as his repetition. He only stopped praying to say to the receptionist, “Detective Carisi with the NYPD, looking for Amanda Rollins, she was shot, she should be-”

“Carisi,” Benson’s ragged voice came from the right. He turned to her frantically, not realizing that tear marks streaked his cheeks. Benson was approaching him, and Dominick tried not to choke when he saw the blood stains on her blouse. Her hair was tangled, her face exhausted and fearful, but the mask of bravery that she always wore was with her as well. She turned to the woman at the desk, and said calmly, “he’s with me, it’s alright.”

The woman nodded, and Benson held her arm out for Dominick. “C’mon, Carisi,” she breathed, beckoning him to follow her.

“Where is, where is Sienna,” he mumbled, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands, as if to say, _no, no, don’t try to calm me down_ , because he _wasn’t_ calm, he wasn’t going to _be_ calm until he had the Rollins girls in his arms. All three of them.

“They should be here any minute, and they know where to go,” Benson replied softly, firmly. She said something else, but Dominick could barely hear her. There were a million things ricocheting around his head like gunfire. Amidst all of the panic, his concern for Amanda, his overwhelming need to protect Jesse and Billie, the blood on Benson’s hands and torso, he hadn’t even realized that he introduced himself as Detective Carisi.

Benson guided him into the waiting room where Fin sat next to Benson’s coat. He half-expected Fin to brush him off, things hadn’t exactly been friendly between them, but his expression softened when their eyes met. 

“Hey, Carisi,” Fin murmured, and stood up awkwardly. It was clear he didn’t know what to say, but to his credit, neither did anyone else. What do you say to a guy when the woman he loves has just been shot? What do you say when nobody has a _clue_ what is actually going on between the two of you, anyways? 

All of that seemed so small, now, so inconsequential, with Amanda bleeding out a few rooms away. That thought made Dominick feel like he was going to vomit. He hadn’t eaten that morning- he didn’t have the time. He usually got breakfast with Amanda and the girls, but today was just too busy, and now their mother was fighting for her life, and he hadn’t even seen her since-

He was spiraling. Or, at least, he was, until a familiar voice shouted from behind him.

“Uncle Sonny!” Jesse shouted, and Dominick spun on his heels to find a blonde head of hair leaping towards him. Suddenly, there was some slight- slight, but substantial enough- sense of clarity, and he let the little girl jump into his arms.

“Oof, hey, Jess,” he groaned, squeezing her tight before letting her back on the ground. Letting her go hurt more than he thought it would; having her in his arms made almost everything feel alright, just for a second. He felt like he still had the chance to protect someone he loved. “Hey, honey, you okay?”

He was squatting, now, eye-level with Jesse, and she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“Where is mommy?” she asked, raising her eyebrows the way that Amanda so often did. She was becoming more like her mother with every passing day. 

Dominick gave a quick glance up at Sienna. She was holding Billie in her arms, and by the grave look on her face, she knew exactly the situation at hand. She also had clearly waited to tell the girls.

“I thought it might be better if they heard it from you,” Sienna said quietly. She didn’t sound sheepish or regretful; she sounded mournful. She knew it was the right choice to let Dominick tell them. It just wasn’t a choice she wanted to make. 

He nodded, and looked back down at Jesse. She reached out to touch his face, her tiny, soft hand brushing against the stubble of his cheek. “You’re sad, Uncle Sonny,” she observed.

He sniffled, and cleared his throat. “You’re right, Jesse,” he replied, “I am sad.” Then, he moved to sit in the waiting room chair behind him. He lifted Jesse up onto his lap, and Sienna sat down next to him with Billie. “You know how momma catches bad guys, right?”

Jesse nodded. 

“Yeah,” Dominick sighed, “well, she was goin’ after a bad guy, and she got hurt. Do you understand?”

Jesse nodded again, her small face beginning to twist into some mix of sadness and confusion. “Where is she?”

“She’s getting patched up by some doctors right now, honey,” he soothed, “and we’re thinkin’ she’ll be good as new in a little bit.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed now, and her voice became watery. “I wanna see her,” she mumbled, becoming upset, “I wanna see mommy.”

Dominick began stroking her hair in an instant, almost too good at defusing the situation. Taking care of her was natural to him. “I know, Jess, but we’re gonna have to wait. I wanna see her, too. We just gotta wait a little bit, you understand?” He bounced his leg a little, and let Jesse rest her head on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

He was dimly aware of Benson and Fin watching him from the other side of the room. It was a sight to behold: the man had come in, crumbling to pieces, held together by tendons and veins and nothing else. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was… he was present. He was Carisi again. Amanda’s daughters came in, and suddenly he had to be strong. If not for himself, for them.

If Amanda couldn’t be there, he sure as hell would.


	3. 5:57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks !! i hope everyone is doing quite well, and if you're not, i hope you are doing better soon :~) <3 TW: mentions of sex trafficking and gun violence

_ 5:57 _

When Amanda woke up, she had no idea where she was.

The first thing she noticed was the pain, extending from her the space above her left elbow to her collarbone. It felt as if someone had crushed it in a panini press. Biting the insides of her cheeks, she grimaced before slowly opening her eyes. 

The blinds of the window were half opened, half closed, so a barcode of the yawning morning light shoe through the glass. Still, the room was dim, with the sun slowly beginning to rise, and Amanda swallowed the dryness in her throat. She wasted no time identifying the hospital’s blinds, and the signature wallpaper that she recognized from far too many visits. Beginning her own investigation, she ran over what she knew: unbearable pain in her left side, early morning, hospital room. She blinked a few times before gently craning her neck to gather a better sense of the situation, the detective in her kicking in. 

Her bag and her phone rested on the bedside table, unopened, easy to reach. A small piece of paper next to them, scribbled with crayons, the artwork easily recognizable as that of Jesse Rollins. Turning her head, she processed the charcoal gray sweatshirt draped over the end of bedframe, slightly worn, dark red lettering just barely visible. She was still waking up, still taking inventory, and she continued to turn until she faced the armchair to her right.

His legs stuck out awkwardly, and his head rested in his hand, his torso propped up on the armrest. With his white button-down wrinkled and tie undone, his stubble more apparent than usual, his hair tousled (the gel clearly having given up), ADA Dominick Carisi, Jr. looked like a wreck. Amanda felt a pang in her chest as she took stock of his heavy eyebags, the ruddiness of his skin. Sonny had always made a point to be presentable, always ready to take action- hell, he would remember to pack breath mints before he would remember to eat. Now, he seemed far too unprepared, too disarrayed. She gazed at him for a few moments, and couldn’t help but take in the little things, too; his chest rose and fell slowly, the sound of his breathing gentle and consistent. His face twitched, slight concern etched into his forehead, and she wondered what he was dreaming about. His eyebrows always crinkled like that when he was waiting for a verdict, or so much longer ago, when he was so close to a solve it made his ribs hurt. Despite his dishevelement, she could see him clear as day. It was all Sonny.

Suddenly, as if he had felt her eyes on him, he jolted awake, his back straightening like he had been electrocuted. His eyes flew open, slightly bloodshot, and in an instant he was glancing around, hands hovering above the chair’s armrests. She noticed the way his sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, the veins of his hands still defined in the low lighting of the hospital room.

“Dominick,” Amanda whispered, and she didn’t know if her tone was to calm him or her.

His panicked gaze turned to her, and the strangest cocktail of fear, relief, concern, and realization flooded his face at once. “‘Manda,” he croaked, his voice gravelly and strained. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I am,” she replied weakly. “Where are-”

“They’re with Sienna,” he said immediately. “At your place.”

Amanda nodded. She was unfathomably grateful for him in that moment, because he  _ understood _ , and she didn’t think she could be  _ more _ grateful until he spoke again.

“They didn’t give ya anything for the pain,” he said gruffly, reassuringly, “nothin’ but Aspirin.”

Relief flooded her, the release of tension she hadn’t quite yet realized was there. Unsure of what to say, she went with, “I didn’t know that was in my file.”

“It’s not,” Sonny responded, now rubbing his eyes and dragging his hands along his face. “I told ‘em.”

She didn’t say anything, now, because she didn’t feel that there was anything she could say. Nothing would have conveyed what she was feeling. From the expression on his face, Sonny understood that.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, and she immediately began to shake her head, before she caught the look in his eyes. He might as well have said out loud,  _ c’mon, Rollins, it’s just you ‘n’ me. _ It wasn’t a look of judgement, but rather an unspoken request.

“I want to see my girls,” she muttered weakly, a sigh working its way into her words, and he nodded. 

“I’ll text Sienna now.”

As he took out his phone and began to type, Amanda sighed again, shakily, her mind turing over what was happening. As she woke up more, she was beginning to piece it all together. She had been on the job, it was Saturday, they were investigating that trafficking ring… 

“What day is it?” She murmured, reaching up to push her tangled layers from her face, but then wincing from the immediate punishment of unspeakable pain in her left shoulder. In an instant, white spots shot holes through her vision, and she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

Sonny looked up at the sound, and without hesitation, without a second thought, moved swiftly to her bedside. Amanda thought she might have imagined it, unsure of how he had gotten up so quickly, so naturally. Nevertheless, using the palm of his hand, Sonny gently swept her blonde hair towards her ear, so delicately that she thought she might have been glass. He let his touch linger for just a second on her cheek, gazing at her, sinking in the moment for a seemingly unremarkable second. But as quickly as the moment had happened, he pulled away, and opted to crouch down beside her.

“It’s Sunday, Sunday morning.”

She heard the  _ whoosh _ of a text being sent as he tapped his phone, then tucked it away again.

“How long have you been here, Sonny?” She asked hoarsely, straining her voice without realizing it. He noticed, and when he spoke, it was soft, almost as if asking her to match his tone.

“I slept here,” he said casually, but he couldn't conceal his exhaustion no matter how he tried. “Sienna, the captain, and I, we all agreed that someone should be here when you wake up.”

There was something unspoken there; Amanda would have never wanted her children to sleep overnight in the hospital, and Benson had Noah to think about. But, of anyone else that could have stayed by her side- Sienna, or Fin, hell, even  _ Kat _ could have been there- it would only have been Carisi. That wasn’t a question that needed to be asked. 

“You slept in your suit,” she noted. Her voice was soft, that Georgia accent underlining every word, each syllable revealing feelings of concern that she didn’t feel bothered to hide. 

He shrugged, his warm eyes still peering into hers. She wasn’t alright, from what he could see, but he was only prepared to see what she would let him. With Amanda, he was usually fighting tooth and nail for her to talk about these things; she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her emotions. But on that Sunday morning, it wouldn’t have felt right pushing her for more. Not after she had just woken up, scared and in pain and confused.

Despite this, she had nothing to keep in, no temptation to run from the room or from him. If it was anybody else, she’d have already ripped the IV out, thrown a hasty “I’m fine” over her shoulder, and driven herself home. But it wasn’t anybody else. It was Sonny. And she felt perfectly okay falling apart, so long as he was there to keep her tied together. 

“I was shot,” she stated, her voice small and the tail end of her sentence dropping off with a hitch in her throat. The sight of Sonny at her side became blurred as tears began to pool. “I was shot.”

She felt him take her hand in his own, and he squeezed, tight. “I know, ‘Manda,” he muttered. He was still looking at her, his gaze like steel, but pain was inscribed in every inch of his face. 

She began to stutter, “I-I’m not okay, Dominick, I-I don’t, I,” she let out an unsteady breath as a tear rolled down her cheek, “what if- what if-”

“Hey,” he interrupted, now enclosing her hand in the both of his, “you’re alive. That’s all that matters. Nothin’ bad happened.”

Her breath quickening, she was suddenly shaking her head, mumbling, “no, no, Sonny, what if somethin’ had gone wrong, what about the girls, huh? I just, I don’t know what, I don’t know- can you, can I just-”

Somehow, somehow, he understood. He had no idea how, but he understood. “Yeah,” he said, nodding, as he stood up from the floor and sat down on the mattress next to her. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around her right shoulder, facing away from the armchair and the door, now looking through the blinds as the morning sun lazily rose. Amanda let her head fall on his chest, sunk into his embrace, sobbing quietly into the breast pocket of his button-down. He just held her there, whispering, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, it’s alright.” 

He had spoken those words to her before.

He had wished he’d never have to again. 


	4. 14:32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends!! i hope everyone's week is going super well so far, and that it's a fantastic week from here on out! i also hope u all like this chapter :~) <3 tw: mention of gun violence

_14:32_

The grin on his face was so wide he thought he would burst, but Dominick was too distracted by the scene before him to care.

Jesse and Billie were sprawled on the hospital bed, having made themselves at home, knees bent or stomach down as they giggled and rolled at their mother’s story. Amanda sat up in bed, her eyes tired but bright, and she turned another page on the book and began to read. “The mouse will want to hang his picture on the refrigerator, so the mouse will ask for tape.” She was gleaming, laughing along with them as the girls dissolved into stitches. 

“Didja hear that, Uncle Sonny?” Jesse squealed and turned to the man sitting in the armchair, “the mouse asked for tape!”

Dominick felt his smile lines grow deeper, laughing along, “I did, Jess, that silly mouse!” 

Jesse flopped back towards the direction of her mother, who was flashing an exasperated, but warm, eyeroll at Dominick. She was turning the book towards the direction of the girls, showing them the illustration of the little mouse reaching for some scotch tape. It had been barely a day since she had been shot, nearly killed, but she didn’t look it. As she sat with Jesse and Billie, wearing the Fordham sweatshirt that she looked better in than he ever could, he could barely tell that anything had happened to her in the first place. (Granted, he wasn’t looking. If he really wanted to look, look at the eyebags she wore, the gentle ruddiness splotched on her cheeks, the way she clearly favored her right arm, the way her hair hadn’t been brushed… he could look at all of those things, if he wanted to. But he didn’t. Those things didn’t change how absolutely radiant she looked.)

Billie, oftentimes the quieter of the two, shook him from his stupor by bursting into laughter as Amanda read, “The mouse will remember that he is thirsty and ask for a glass of milk.” She was laughing, and laughing, and Dominick wasn’t sure if she had read the book so many times she just _expected_ to laugh, or if she truly knew the punchline that was coming. Either way, he beamed at the sound. Jesse, alternately, might as well have been holding her breath in anticipation. She was rising up to her knees, soaking in the picture Amanda was displaying, waiting, waiting… 

“With the glass of milk,” she declared with finality, “he will want a cookie.”

Now both girls shrieked with delight, clapping and chattering and giggling, and Dominick clapped alongside them. Amanda laughed too, and opened her right arm to let Billie clamber closer towards her. 

“Again, mama,” she said politely, gently nudging her mom’s good shoulder. Amanda opened her mouth, but before she could respond, Dr. Westfield’s voice came from the doorway and turned the heads of the two adults in the room.

“I think it’s time we let Mom get some rest, right, girls?” Dr. Westview said kindly, in a way that made it clear this was less of a discussion and more of doctor’s orders. Sienna appeared in the doorframe behind her, and she gave a small smile.

Turning his head back to Amanda, Dominick watched as relief and sadness washed across her face simultaneously. She looked down at her girls, then back up at Dr. Westview, saying sheepishly, “really? Now?”

Dr. Westview smiled, sad, and said, “they’ve been here for hours, Detective, and you need to rest.”

Sienna held her arm out to Jesse and Bille, who smiled wide at their mother. Billie hugged Amanda’s side tight, to which Amanda groaned. “Oof, alright.”  
“We’ll see you later, mommy,” Jesse said, chipper and casual before leaping from the bed. She raced over to the armchair where Dominick sat, and he was already leaning forward with his arms open wide.

“Bye, Uncle Sonny,” she said in a sing-song voice, and he wrapped her in a bear hug with a grin. He and Amanda then watched as the two little girls left the room, waving, before Dr. Westview closed the door softly behind the four of them. 

His gaze immediately trailed back to Amanda, her facade seeming to fall in a second. She sighed heavily, and rubbed her eyes with her palms. The children’s book lay closed on the table, and Dominick took the opportunity to gently pluck it from the bedsheets. He thumbed the cover absentmindedly, allowing his eyes to flicker down at it for a moment. He had gotten this book for the girls a few months back, a little Christmas gift for the family. When he had picked it out, he had imagined himself and Amanda reading it to the girls together, before he quickly chided himself. _No,_ he’d reminded himself in the moment, _they’re Amanda’s girls_. The fantasy was just too good to pass up, though, and he left the store a little too excited about the purchase. Since then, they had not only read “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie” before bed, but also the muffin, pancake, and brownie editions. Nights with those books were some of his fondest memories; either Dominick, Jesse, or Billie pulled it from the shelf, and Amanda would laugh…

_“I- oh, really, Sonny?” She scoffed, tucking in Billie’s sheets and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “This one again?”_

_“Hey, these girls ‘ave gotta learn the importance of food as young as they can,” he retorted. He was delicately combing his fingers through Jesse’s long blonde hair, making quick work of the snarls as he braided her long locks. He had known how to braid since he was a teenager, what with his sisters always begging him to do their hair before school, mass, and dates. Eventually, their friends were asking too, and then their friends’ sisters, and before he knew it, good ol’ Sonny Carisi had become the go-to hairstylist for the entire block. Unlike some of the girls he used to braid for, however, Jesse was quite skilled at sitting still. As he secured a hair tie around the end of the plait, he turned towards Amanda._

_“I can’t tell ya how grateful I am you can do that,” she said, eyebrows raised as she nodded towards the beautiful braid that Jesse was now toying with. “I-I could never do that, not like that.”_

_“You want one?” He teased, before rising from the bed and snatching the book from her hands. She rolled her eyes, but her smile was grateful._

_“I wanna be a chef!” Jesse piped up, and Dominick lifted an eyebrow._

_“Oh yeah?” He replied, ushering her under the covers and pulling the cord on the table lamp. Amanda clicked off the ceiling light before coming to sit down with him at the edge of Jesse’s bed. “Well, Jesse, this book right here is a great place to start.”_

“Earth to ADA Carisi,” Amanda said softly, and he glanced up quickly.

“Sorry,” he muttered instinctively, before gingerly placing the book down on top of his briefcase. Along with the girls, Sienna had brought for Dominick a change of clothes from Amanda’s apartment, as well as his laptop and case courtesy of Benson. It seemed as if everyone knew that he wouldn’t be leaving her side- not willingly, anyways. He bought a toothbrush and some deodorant from the hospital shop the night before, preparing himself to settle in for as long as needed. Thankfully, Sienna and Benson had clearly expected this.

“How’re you feelin’, ‘Manda?” He asked, leaning forward and tilting his head.

“Tired,” she replied, “but… fine. I’ll be good to go by tomorrow.”

It was his turn to scoff, and he gave her a skeptical look. “Really?”

She smiled, rolling her eyes, tossing him a pleading expression. “Come on, Dominick. It’s just my arm, you know they’re gonna force me into a cast anyways. Liv needs me.”

He remained unconvinced, and she continued, “just… it’ll be fine, Sonny. Now come sit with me, will ya?”

Dominick, unrelenting, kept his focus drilled towards her. “Amanda…”

He didn’t realize it was possible, but her eyes became even softer. “C’mon, Sonny. Please.”

And so he relented. He feared that if he didn’t, he might sink into her gaze, drown in the thrashing seas that were her eyes, never to resurface again. So, he sighed, exasperated, and crossed to the side of her bed. Pulling his loafers off, he felt the bed shift as Amanda adjusted to make room for him. He paired them neatly, then pushed himself back to recline alongside her. 

Dominick stretched his arm around her back, letting his arm rest on her right shoulder and his hand fall on the back of her head. He then began to absentmindedly stroke her hair, and she let her head gently fall against his bicep. This… this felt like home to him more than anything else in the world. Having Amanda in his arms was something that he had wanted for years, and would continue to want for the rest of his life. He never felt that she _belonged_ there, no. By all good graces, neither heaven nor high waters could force Amanda Rollins to stay in one place if she didn’t want to. But he knew that he belonged with her. That was clear as day as he took in her lavender shampoo, felt the gentle thump of her heartbeat against his own torso, synced his own respiration with the rise and fall of her breath.

She was everything to him, their _family_ was everything to him.

“Billie’s gonna be smarter than all of us, ya know,” he said thoughtfully, chuckling a little, “didja see how she remembered the endin’ of the book before you even got there?”

Amanda laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears. “Yeah,” she sighed, “and Jesse’s becomin’ a daddy’s girl more and more every day.”


End file.
